Darkness Rising
by IAmAFantasyFan
Summary: What if Tom Riddle had never been? What if Albus Dumbledore had been able to continue his secret plan for vanquish of the dark witches and wizards? What if the light was not always right? What if the Dark Magic students decided to fight back?
1. Chapter 1

What if Tom Riddle had never been?

What if Albus Dumbledore had been able to continue his secret plan for vanquish of the dark side?

What if the light was not always right?

What if the Dark Magic students decided to fight back?

**I would really appreciate if someone wanted to be my Beta for this story.**

**Chapter 1**

In the middle of a busy train station, surrounded by rather odd people and next to a bright red steam engine, Harry Potter pried himself from his mother's tightly clasped arms.

"My baby is leaving me." she sobbed.

"Now, now, Lily." James Potter comforted his wife. "We'll see Harry at Christmas, I'm sure." He turned to Harry and patted him on the shoulder. "Now be a good boy, and do get into gryffindor, will you?" Harry nodded. Suddenly he was patted rather forcefully on the back. Harry winced when he bit his tongue.

"Hey, Gryffindor pup. Ready to show those snakes what a real Potter is made of?" Harry tried to smile at his enthusastic godfather all the while edging away and trying to get on the express before it left without him.

"I'm sure the boy is excited to go find his friends." Remus chuckled. "Run along, then, little pup." Harry smiled gratefully at his uncle, and boarded the Hogwarts express. He felt quite overwhelmed by all the big, tall, and scary students pushing past him. Harry was exceptionally small for his age, and he felt it painfully now. As Harry walked down the train searching for an empty compartment (with no intention of finding his so called 'friends' from 'respectible' families), he hummed 'Flyin' over manchester' by the Weird Sisters. It was a lame song, but he had come up with funny words to the chorus.

_Flyin' over Manchester, think I'm gonna tip off my broom._ He sang under his breath as he peeked in yet another compartment door.

_Mama's gonna miss me, when I finally fall and go boom._ Yet another three compartments crammed with scary older kids.

_I don't have a death wish, I don't want to ride this # !* broom._ Of course, poor sheltered Harry didn't know any swear words, so he had to replace the would-be word with 'beep' when he sung his song.

_I really hate my broomstick, I'd be better stuck in my room._ Harry smiled to himself as he recalled the circumstances surrounding the creation of his song. Dad, quidditch fanatic that he was, had tried for years to get harry to ride a broom. When he was younger, Harry could get away with screaming and clinging to Mom, but at the age of 10 James finally decided all Harry had to do was try flying and he would love it. Needless to say, Harry hadn't, and here he was 11 years old with no intention of ever getting on a broom again. That song had been his first. Harry didn't dare tell his parents that he wanted to be a poet when he grew up.

"Gryffindors aren't poets." They would say, and then Harry would be doing it without their permission. Finally Harry found an empty compartment with one other young boy in it.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked shyly, opening the door. The sandy-brown haired boy turned and smiled at him.

"Of course! My name is Terry Boot. What's yours?"

"Harry Potter." Harry Potter said, sitting down across from the boy. "It's a pleasure to make your aquantince." Terry wrinkeled his nose.

"Don't tell me, you're a pureblood."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Sorry," Terry smiled sheepishly, "it's just that you're manners are so – well – formal."

"They are?" Harry was surprised. Then again, it's not like he had hung out with many other children his own age. Unfortunatly, there weren't many pureblood 'light' families to choose from, so Harry had only hung out with Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom – both of whom he had disliked immensily.

"Oh, it's fine." Terry said. "I'll corrupt you easily enough. What house do you think you're going to be in?" Harry smiled at Terry. He wanted to be corrupted! Who knew what fun Terry would be?

"Gryffindor, defanitly!" Harry exclaimed. "It is the best house, after all." Terry frowned.

"No it isn't." He said. "Gryffindor is just one of the four best houses." Harry laughed, and shrugged.

"All my family has been in Gryffindor." He said. "I'd probably get disowned if I ended up in slytherin!"

"Really?" Terry asked.

"No, I'm just joking. 'Though I can't imagine that would be a problem anyway. I'm not a dark wizard."

"Hmm. Well, I guess we'll just have to find out. I think I'm going to be a Ravenclaw." Harry was about to respond, when the compartment door slid open and a girl with blond pigtails poked her head in.

"Have you two seen a toad anywhere about?" She asked. "Some chap has lost his." Harry laughed.

"Is his name Neville?"

"Yes." She agreed.

"Well you can forget about looking for it, that toad is bloody well hard to find. It'll turn up. Sit with us?" Terry said. Harry turned to him in surprise.

"You know Neville?" He asked.

"Yeah," Terry nodded, "we had visit his manor a couple of years ago. That was no fun."

"No, Neville is rather stuck up, isn't he?" Harry agreed. The girl with pigtails spoke up.

"My name is Susan Bones, what are yours?"

"Terry Boot." Terry stuck out his hand and Susan shook it.

"Harry Potter." Harry said.

"Oh, I know the Potter family, though I've never heard of the Bonses." Susan sat down next to Harry. Harry scooted over to make room for her, and looked out the window. The english countryside rolled by, and a couple of cows lifted up their heads to gaze at the train. _Strange._ Harry thought. _Who knew cows could see magic!_

"I want to be a spy when I grow up." Susan was saying to Terry. "And go undercover and send back secret messages written in code. What about you?"

"I don't know what I want to be yet, maybe work in the ministry. What about you, Harry?" Terry turned to Harry, who blushed.

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked. The other two children nodded their heads vigorously. "I want to be an auror, and a poet." Susan's eyes widened, and Terry burst out laughing. Harry was quite offended, but Terry apologized.

"There's nothing wrong with being a poet, it was just unexpected I guess. Let's hear one of your poems!" Harry blushed, but folded his hands in his lap and recited a poem about butterflies he had made up the day before.

"That was great!" Susan said. "Can you do another one?"

"Okay, but don't tell _anyone_ this one. I don't want it to get back to dad. Actually, don't tell anyone anything about this."

"Okay." They agreed, and Harry recited his version of flying over manchester. Not singing, of course. That would be humiliating. After it was over, Terry laughed with glee.

"That's great!" He crowed. "Do you have any other modified songs?" Harry shook his head. They continued discussing ambitions, likes and dislikes, and the such until lunch time. When the candy lady came by, Harry bought three chocolate frogs with the Sickle that his Sirius had slipped him on the car ride to King's Cross, and passed Susan and Terry two.

"Thanks, mate!" Terry said. "Oooh, look who I got! Agrippa!" Harry laughed.

"Ron Weasley's been looking for that one for ages. Please don't give it to him, he's spoiled enough as it is."

"I won't." Terry smirked. "What've you got?" Harry unrapped his card and saw a picture of Dumbledore.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.

Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten pin bowling.

Harry laughed at the last line. "Don't you think Dumbledore sounds creepy?" He asked his new friends, "Mom and Dad worship the ground he walks on, but to me he sounds mad.

"Oh, yes." Susan agreed. "In my Aunt's opinion, Dumbledore can do no wrong. If fact, once he was accused of a crime but got off because no one wanted to accuse him of anything. Can you imagine? But you musn't tell anyone, least of all that I told you. I'm not supposed to let _anyone_ know."

"Sure." Terry said. "By the way, what house do you think you'll be in?" Susan glanced around the cabin, and then leaned towards the boys. "You musn't tell anyone, promise?" Harry nodded while Terry did the same. "I think I'm a dark witch." Harry's eyes widened, and Terry gasped.

"You're evil?" Harry asked, edging away from Susan. "But you're Aunt's a known light witch!"

"Well, that's the thing." Susan whispered. "When I was staying at Aunt Amelia's house, I found an old book hidden away behind a secret panel. It said that dark does not really mean evil, just as light magic is not always good. It is just a matter of what kind of magic you're made up of. I would try to get into Slytherin, or at least Ravenclaw, but I think I might get in trouble if I ended up anywhere but Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. I couldn't stand Gryffindor – it's so obviously an all-light house – so I'm going to try to convince the hat to put me in Hufflepuff. Then at least I can learn dark magic on the sly." Harry sat back, his head reeling. _How could dark magic be anything but evil?_ He thought. _Mum and Dad are so obviously against it. I wonder what would happen if I ended up being a dark wizard._ Harry shook his head, not wanting to think about that. He would probably end up in the same posistion Susan was in, and that wouldn't be pleasant.

"Is your Aunt so against dark magic?" He asked.

"My whole family." She said miserably. "Yours is too, right?" Harry nodded.

"Well," Terry said, "I guess we'll just have to see. Now who's up for a game of exploding snap?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – The Sorting Ceremony**

Harry Potter was very nervous. Do try to symphasize with him, dear readers, as I'm sure you can recall a time when you had that sinking feeling in your stomach right before a big test or announcement. Or a roller coaster, for that matter. Never mind the fact that he was almost guaranteed to be sorted into Gryffindor, there was still the smallest of chances that something could go horribly wrong and he would end up in Slytherin. That was typically one of a light wizard boy's deepest fears, and Harry was no exception. As it turned out, Harry had great reason to be nervous. However, that is besides the point. What is the point, is that Harry was in dead _dreadfully_ nervous.

He shifted from foot to foot while staring at the double doors in front of him that led into the great hall. He had been stuck with Ron-bloody-Weasley on the boat ride over, and was not in a good mood. His stomach was tossing and turning like anything. Still, he felt great apprehension at the thought of the sorting ceremony that was about to begin.

"I hear we're going to have to wrestle a troll." Ron said loudly right behind him. Harry jumped, and then snorted at the sentence. Fred and George had tried to convince him of that too, although if anyone bothered to read they would learn about the sorting hat. It wasn't like it was a well kept secret anyway.

"Do you think there will be?" Terry asked him. Harry laughed and shook his head, making sure that Ron was unable to see him. Then Professor McGonagall, who's visits to Potter manor Harry greatly dreaded (she was an evil old hag, and never seemed to appove of him), came to lead the first years into the great hall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Terry behind him, and they walked through the double doors into the Great Hall. Now, if you have read so much as a few half-baked fanfictions, you will have no need of a discription of the great hall. Thus I shall proceed directly to the sorting.

Harry walked up the the hat, and tentavly put it on his head. He did not have to wait long at all.

"Slytherin!" The hat cried immediatly. To Albus Dumbledore's suprise, it had barely touched his head. A few muggleborns started to clap, but stopped bewildered when the rest of the great hall remained in a shocked silence. Then people started to murmer among themselves. A Potter in Slytherin? No, it couldn't be! The Potters were the number one light family, as notorious and the Black family was dark! In fact, Harry's sorting had much the same affect that young Sirius Black's did some twenty years before. Harry himself sat on the stool miserably, wondering what on earth his parents (and uncles) would think. Would they disown him? Harry had no idea. No Potter had ever been in Slytherin before to give him an example. Professor McGonagall was the first to recover from her shock, and hustled Harry over to the Slytherin table before continuing with the sorting. Harry sat down and tried to make himself invisible. This day was turning out to be not so wonderful after all.

The sorting feast was a blur. The only truly notable point was when the Weasley terrors hexed the candles and they all fell down. Thirty children were sent to the hospatil wing, and the ever twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore continued to twinkle. Harry was getting more than a little creeped out by them.

"C'mon, Potter." One of the Slytherin prefects shook Harry, snapping him out of his daze. He and the other first years followed her out of the room, and through the castle. Wide-eyed, Harry stared as one of the suits of Armour offered a hand to shake.

"Potter," she laughed, "you're being impolite." Harry reached out his hand and tentively shook the gauntlet. Then he hurried to catch up to the other first years who were dissapearing down the hall.

After many comfusing twists and turns, a group of hopelessly lost first years stopped. The Prefect said the password (pure-blood), and the wall next to opened into the Slytherin common room. Harry rubbed his eyes and blinked. Man, this made getting sorted into Slytherin worth everything! It was a huge domed room with a large fireplace on the other side. Many green lanterns floated around the celing, showing many (yet not overwhelming) murals on the ceiling. Green light came through the windows around the room, and domed tunnels led off into other dimly lit corriders. Despite it's lack of light, and mainly green, black, and silver colours, the room immediately felt like a home. Warm, and welcoming, even though it looked like it was meant to have been cold and intimidating.** ( harry potter . wikia wiki / Slytherin _ Dungeon ← _remove spaces for pictures_)**

On the other side of the room, the rest of the slytherins were gathered.

"I've got the first years." Their prefect said. A tall, dark haired boy nodded in approval.

"All right, listen up. I'm Marcus Flint. This," he gestured toward their prefect, "is Abigail Pugh. We are the head Prefects. Come to us for help." He opened his mouth to say more, but a yell from one of the tunnels on the right echoed through the room, and a tall boy with brown hair came running into the room.

"It's done!" He announced, and the rest of the Slytherins cheered.

"What's done?" Harry asked the other first years, but no one knew.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Follow me." He said. "All will be explained." Harry and the rest of the Slytherins followed Marcus down one of the tunnels and into a boy's dormitory. He walked over to the opposite wall, and tapped it with his wand. Just like the entrance to Diagon Alley, the wall opened into another room very similar to the Slytherin common room. He stepped in. "Welcome to the DA headquarters. Please, follow me." Everyone walked into the room, and chose a seat. "I have a letter from Charles, meant to be read when the chamber was completed.

Marcus cleared his throat, and began to read off a piece of parchment in a dramatic speech sort of voice that inspired and uplifted Harry with every word he heard.

"Long have we Slytherins been the lesser of the noble houses of Hogwarts. Long have we Slytherins been looked down upon, and ridiculed. Long have we Slytherins been considered evil, and lowly serpents of the dust. While the Gryffindors have been known as the king of the lands, and the Ravenclaw eagle the monarch of the skies, the Slytherins have been persecuted. We have been falsly portrayed as serpants, trod upon by the lions, uprooted by the badgers, and fed upon by the eagles. Well, no longer! Today marks the beginning of a new era! Today we rise up and we show our opressers that we are not snakes, but dragons! We are not the lessers, but the kings! Today we will fight back, and today we will win; and today – once more – we will be proud to be of the most Noble house of Slytherin. Today we will be reign once more!" He ended with a shout, and all of the Slytherins cheered. It really was a great sort of speech, the sort that made all of the students want to grab their wands and storm Dumbledore's office right then and there. For Slytherins, that was a very strong reaction indeed.

Then Abigail stood up and cleared her throat. "In the year of our lord 1988, one Charles Weasley began a dream of uniting the Slytherins and fighting the oppression against dark wizards." Harry raised his hand, perplexed. "yes?"

"Who's Charles Weasley? Is he related to the other Weasleys?"

"Yes," Abigail said, looking disgusted, "but they disowned him because he became a Slytherin and refuse to speak of him."

"Oh." Actually, Harry thought it was pretty cool that Ron had an other older brother who was maybe a little less Gryffindorish then the others.

"The oppression was started, you might say, with the appointing of Headmaster Armando Dippit. Dippit, foolish headmaster that he was, had seen the rivalry between light and dark wizards. Instead of realizing it to be a sort of cancelling out of each other (for without one, the balance is terribly upset), leaving a nice comfortable grey atmosphere, the fool of a Hufflepuff thought that the rivalry was war waiting to happen. Something had to be done!"

"So," Flint continued, "he modified the curriculem. Instead of teaching specialty light and dark magic for light and dark wizards, he tried to erase any difference. He modified history, and taught the children of that generation that there was no difference between the two. That it was simply all 'magic' and was taught the same to all witches and wizards. Slytherin, instead of being a house for dark mages, was a house for the ambitions and blood purists. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, instead of being for the strongest of light magicians, were simply houses of the brave or loyal. Only Ravenclaw, who could be considered a 'grey' house and taught both kinds of magic remained the same." Draco Malfoy raised his hand.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Does that mean that people origionally didn't get sorted because of their houses, but the colour of their magic?"

"Yes." Abigail said. "Unless they were unusually Academic, light Wizards and Witches would go into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, and dark would go into Slytherin."

"Why is there only one dark house?" Theo Nott asked. Marcus smiled at him.

"Because light magic is slightly more common than dark magic. What's more, dark wizards can do light magic and survive in a light house, whereas light wizards will never make it in Slytherin."

"Cool!" Draco said. "So does that mean we're more powerfull?"

"Generally, yes." Abigail said. "However, there are some very powerful light madges such as Dumbledore." Several Slytherins hissed at that, and Marcus held up a cautioning hand.

"Dumbledore is indeed very powerfull, more powerful than probably any of us here. Therefore we must work together to defeat him, and never underestimate his powers." Here Harry held up his hand.

"But why must we defeat Dumbledore? I thought he was good." He said.

"How about I continue with my narration." Abigail said. "During Dippit's headmastership, a transfiguration prodigy named Albus Dumbledore was appointed as a professor at Hogwarts. He rapidly became greatly estemmed, and was made headmaster after Dippit's late retirement. In fact, we think that he was probably making the decisions for a senile Dippit years before Armando's death. For when he was getting older, the well-respected Dippit began to not ignore differences in magic, but preach against dark wizards! Then when Dumbledore became headmaster it was all to easy to change the histroy texts once more and teach dark magic as being evil." Harry scratched his head.

"So you're saying dark magic isn't evil?"

"No." She smiled at him. "It tends to be more powerful than light magic, but any curses can be used for good or evil."

"Back to busness!" Marcus interrupted. "We only have about 6 more hours until morning, and we must organize ourselves."


End file.
